


The Way He Looks At Me

by standardstiles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:11:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4546167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/standardstiles/pseuds/standardstiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The littlest Stilinski doesn't understand what dementia is, all he knows is that it makes his mother hate him. Claudia Stilinski is only getting worse and there isn't much they can do, it's tearing the family apart. Stiles just wants his parents to be happy again but he only ever sees them frown. They fear the little freckled boy is going to drive her over the edge. She doesn't want to see him any more but he loves her so much. </p><p>—•—•—</p><p>"Daddy when is mummy coming out to play with the paper airplanes, trucks and duckies?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way He Looks At Me

**Author's Note:**

> **This story may contain spoilers/mentions of s5 of Teen Wolf  
> ***Based years before s1 when Stiles was 7, turning 8 ish. TW have messed up timelines so to make things easier I went with the "canon" ages/dates, credit to Effy for doing all the sums for me haha
> 
> —•—•—
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Not sure whether to continue this as a chapter fic? Also are you a fan of Theo Raeken or no?

Bubbly laughter filled the room. A small freckled boy dashed in with a paper airplane in his little, stubby hand. His lips parted as he made an annoying twang, childish chuckles following each swoop of his hand. "Nneeaooww," The littlest Stilinski bounced around, finally landing in a seat beside his mother. 

She was led, very comfortably, in the hospital bed, a gown and a thin blanket covering her body but she was shaking, more from fear than the temperature of the room. Her child, Stiles, leaned on the bed, elbow supporting his chubby cheeks, hand gliding through the air, carefully pinching the folded paper between two little fingers.

"Look, mommy, look!" He said, bright amber eyes meeting her fragile blue ones. They were dilated, darting anywhere but at the little boy, as much as she wanted to gaze at his face the woman sought more comfort in the blue walls. She was so proud of Stiles, always had been, but recently he was staring at her strangely and it was beginning to freak her out. His judgemental gazes were much too long to be normal and his questions always made her uncomfortable. Claudia Stilinski loved her son, she just didn't know how to handle his hyperactivity. 

His hand darted toward her and as the point of the airplane headed straight for her face, another loud airplane noise, from the child's mouth, ringing in her ears, Claudia began to scream. "May Day, May Day, we-" Stiles had begun squawking but he was cut off by her fearful cry. 

It startled the seven year old, sending him reeling into the bedside chair. His expression darkened and he himself became scared, fearful of what his father would think now that he had scared her again. 

Stiles didn't know what to do as he saw his mother hide her face and begin to cry, he didn't understand what was wrong and why she was constantly quaking. He couldn't seek comfort from her because she would swat him away and he already knew how his father would react. The overwhelming lump in his throat became apparent and the airplane, that he had made with his father, crumpled between his fingers. 

His father, John Stilinski, opened the door after hearing the scream, face strained. He had winced at the familiar sight since this had happened numerous times before, more frequently so when Stiles requested to visit alone. He had every right to, the patient was his mother but somehow something always set the woman off. He couldn't quite understand what the boy did, he always claimed to nothing and while suspicious it was unlikely that someone of Stiles' nature could be mean to his own mother.

Dementia was deteriorating Claudia's brain, removing senses, adding negativity. Her reactions became more severe by the minute, it was hard deciding whether it was worth having someone nearby or no one at all. She got scared either way. John struggled to comfort her (another thing progressively growing in difficulty the more it happened) while holding her hand, caressing her knuckles. She managed a smile and looked at the man, relief flowing over her features. In the corner Stiles pulled his legs to his chest, whimpering quietly with tear-filled eyes. He didn't understand what he did wrong, he just wanted to play. 

The second the woman calmed down, Stilinski turned to his son, an expression riddling his features that only read annoyance, his patience was running thing, but this confused the child. Stiles mumbled under his breath, "I'm sorry." and the man just pressed a thin, forced smile. 

"Why don't you go play with Scott, Stiles." It sounded more like a demand than a suggestion and the kid wasted no time sliding off the chair. With heavy footsteps he dashed out of the room. As the door closed the man deflated, rubbing his stubbled chin. They had been spending more time at the hospital than at home and he hadn't the will to continue his daily life without Claudia by his side. 

Neither of them were ready.

Stiles swallowed back his tears, kickstarting into a run as he headed for the reception desk. He knew the hospital well; Stiles had been there multiple times a day for at least one whole month. The seven year old's puffy eyes searched the room before he found a friendly face: Melissa McCall. 

The chid grinned a goofy smile and tugged at her clothes. "Mrs McCall!" he called, voice high and pre-pubescent. 

"Stiles, honey!" She turned away from her stacks of paperwork and grinned, ruffling his overgrown hair. "Thought you said you'd be getting a haircut last week?" 

Stiles subconsciously ran fingers through his unruly hair and toed the floor, "Um, yeah, but, well, mommy had that big checkup so we couldn't make it to the appointment," Melissa winced at the child's words and he pursed his lips together obliviously. "Will mommy be getting better soon? She keeps screaming and shouting and it's weird. I'm not sure she likes me anymore and my dad sends me to play but I know I'm getting on his nerves..." Stiles began and before Melissa could reassure him things would be fine for his sake, her son, Scott, returned from the bathroom.

"Hey mo- Stiles!" Scott gasped, running full speed into a bear hug. The two boys laughed as their bodies collided. "Hey, dude!" Scott shouted obnoxiously and they fist pumped. 

Stiles immediately felt happy; his best friend Scott always knew how to make him happy. "Hey, bro!" 

Littlest McCall was his most best friend in the whole wide world, they'd met in a sandbox in the start of third grade. Scott had a cold, nose running constantly and Stiles suffered from hayfever. The whole class was convinced the two were infected with some kind of 'zombie poison' and no one wanted to catch that illness but they had each other and they clicked like PB and jelly, which was Stiles' sandwiches they shared at the time.


End file.
